


I just pinch myself, no longer comatose

by buckybuck (thestarsthesea)



Series: above all things I believe in love - winterhawk [3]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Pre-Slash, a winter fic for the end of summer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-19 13:24:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20657957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thestarsthesea/pseuds/buckybuck
Summary: Someone flops down beside him on the out of the way bench he’s ended up on, he knows who it is, doesn’t even have to look, would have known even if they didn’t shake dramatically and whine as soon as their ass hit the cold wood of the seat.





	I just pinch myself, no longer comatose

← ★ →

You’d think, considering Bucky’s history with cryo chambers, that he’d hate the cold, that winter would be his least favourite of the seasons. But actually, aside from the fresh slate that always seems to come with spring, the warm hopefulness that spreads to everyone, the way everything becomes green and new, after all of that, winter is probably his other favourite season.

There’s just something about the crispness of the cold, the way the snow covers everything and makes it soft, the quiet warmth of the evenings, and of course the cheeriness of Christmas. Even when he was young, when the gift-giving was impossible because the money just wasn’t there, and when dinner was a lot less grand and filling than a Christmas dinner should be, Christmas was still his favourite of holidays.

No matter how little you had, or how cold you are, being surrounded by family, by the people you love, will outweigh it every time.

The only person he ever really had who knew what any of that felt like is Steve. He was there for almost all of the Barnes’ Christmases, he and Sarah both, he knows exactly what having nothing but each other is like.

That is, until Clint.

Clint’s childhood was shit. It’s not a secret and he’s never shied away from any of it. When he still had his parents Christmas was nothing but another shitty day that usually ended in more pain than was ever fair. But then he had the circus, and that had its own horrible shit, but he still somehow found people that loved him. They had their own traditions and their own way to love and celebrate and Christmas finally took on some warmth, even if the group was small, if dinner was leftover circus food, or gifts were silly cheap trinkets not worth more than the good feeling of getting something from someone who you care about and cares about you in return.

Maybe their experiences growing up weren’t the exact same, but it was one of the first things they realised they had in common besides the sniper thing. It was kind of refreshing having someone else to understand that quiet, unrushed feeling that Christmas can have if you don’t worry about all the other shit.

One thing he and Clint _don’t_ have in common, however, is a love of the cold weather.

Someone flops down beside him on the out of the way bench he’s ended up on, he knows who it is, doesn’t even have to look, would have known even if they didn’t shake dramatically and whine as soon as their ass hit the cold wood of the seat. 

“It’s _cold_! Why are we even _out here_?”

Bucky rolls his eyes but can’t help the smile that tugs at his mouth at the petulant whine in Clint’s voice. “No one made you come, Clint, you could’ve stayed home.”

Clint huffs, pulling a disgruntled face as he shoves his hands under his armpits to warm them up. “Yeah right. Don’t give me that shit, Terminator, you’ve never been able to say no to Cap’s puppy eyes either.”

Well, Bucky can’t exactly argue that, so he changes the subject instead. “You could’ve at least worn a scarf, Clint.”

“I don’t _own_ one, alright.” he scowls as a breeze picks up, trying to duck into the short collar of his jacket. “Last one I had caught on fire.”

Bucky snorts. Of course it did. He reaches up, tugging at the warm dark gray scarf knotted at his throat, sliding it off his shoulders and slipping it around Clint’s neck. He tucks it into the collar of his shirt as best he can, tugging and weaving it until it’s secure, keeping Clint’s neck safe from the wind.

It’s not until Clint’s throat clicks on a swallow, that he realises how close they are. His hands are still buried in the soft wool of the scarf, slowly warming where they rest between Clint’s jacket and shirt. Bucky looks up and straight into Clint’s dazed blue eyes.

He pulls his hands away, but can’t help that he lingers, his fingertips trailing whatever they run across like they’re reluctant to lose the contact. The white puff of air that falls from Clint’s mouth is steady, but the breath that makes it shudders.

Bucky licks his lips and looks down at his gloved hands, suddenly unsure of what to do with himself.

The wind picks up again, sending a heady mix of Clint’s cheap but pleasantly crisp aftershave and his own spicy, dark cologne right into Bucky’s face, and he wants to simultaneously rip his scarf from Clint’s neck to make it stop and to just bury his nose in the fabric and let himself get his fill of it.

But he imagines that might be a little too much considering that’s not really something you do to a guy you haven’t quite dredged up the courage to ask out on a date yet. So he keeps his eyes, and his nose, pointed down.

“It’s so cold my mouth it’s numb,” Clint blurts, his voice clumsily loud in the half-awkward silence between them. Bucky darts a look at his face, sees the redness of his cheeks and the stupid stubborn and sheepish tilt to his eyebrows, his mouth. “You should kiss me. Ya know, before I get frostbite.”

Bucky doesn’t jerk in surprise, it’s a close thing, but those Winter Soldier reflexes really do come in handy at the most unconventional of times. He doesn’t really do much of anything but stare at Clint in silence, in surprise, it just, it doesn’t look like it.

Clearly, that’s not the right response. “Uh. I’m- that was,” Clint slides a few inches away, face flushed and eyes wild, obviously poised to flee.

Bucky would really prefer if he stayed.

He thrusts a hand out, getting his fingers back into the plush wool of the scarf and yanks Clint forward, covering his cold mouth with his own. There’s a moment of stillness, where Bucky doesn’t push and Clint’s too shocked to do much to participate, but it passes with a sigh and a nudge, and then they’re kissing, actually kissing, proper and warm.

It lasts a blissfully long time, sweet and chaste, just a gentle press of lips against lips, and it’s the most wonderful thing Bucky’s felt in a long time. But eventually someone has to pull away, and it’s Clint who leans back first, looking gob-smacked in the best way. Bucky doesn’t want to let go, but he does, carefully releasing the scarf and smoothing it out again, any excuse to keep touching a little bit longer.

He studies Clint’s face, the obvious shell-shocked look of him, but also sees what’s lurking at the edges, the bits that look akin to hope, and makes a decision. “You wanna come over later? Maybe catch some Christmas movies, watch the snow fall?”

The hope creeps further in, solidifies, and Clint smiles, as warm as the midsummer sun. “Yeah. Yeah I think I would.”

← ★ →

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote something! I can't believe it!  
I've been pretty, like, meh about writing lately because I don't have a pairing that I'm sort of die-hard for right now. However, a little bit ago I was really feeling the Winterhawk again, and about 85% of this came out, then I lost motivation and thought it sucked, so I discarded it, found it again and decided to finish it up to get something out there! I actually thought it was pretty good when I re-read it, so I tapped out an ending and here we are!
> 
> Dunno if I'll have the desire or motivation to write Winterhawk again anytime soon, but I hope everyone here enjoys it :))
> 
> End Card:  
Title Credit: HOLD ME TIGHT OR DON'T by Fall Out Boy  
Disclaimer: I don't own shit my dudes. Not a darn thing.  
Prompt: "it’s so cold my mouth is numb, you should kiss me before we get frostbite"
> 
> Not beta'd, like pretty much all of my works, rip us all
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! I love you!  
<333


End file.
